


In times of trouble we turn to our mother

by ActOfCynic



Category: Disney Cartoons (Classic), Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drugs, Friendship, London Underground
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 16:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8674510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActOfCynic/pseuds/ActOfCynic
Summary: The rise and fall of Peter Pan reflecting the contemporary world.





	

It’s the middle of the night for me, but for them, for everyone else, it’s just a cold early morning in the city of London. The wind is sweeping me off my feet and the orange neon light shines through the mist crawling at the backstreets of Kensington. It’s depressing and frosty and I wish my brain wouldn’t go ‘tick tock goes the clock’ as I run across the road and watch the grey shade rise up from the ground to Heaven.

Ten to six and my hands are freezing. It’s a conspiracy, I’m sure of it. What a travesty. All six of them standing by the steps near the fountain, stupidly staring at their phones. Their trousers turned up, their ties loose and their shirts out. It all looks phony and I can’t help but quicken my pace. I ultimately hug everyone with a joyful smile but they stand up in a straight line just like the lines of their lips and I sit down on the cold marble, stretching my legs.

Nibwit, being the big boy of the group, starts them off. When he speaks he chooses his words carefully like I was pointing a gun at him. I lazily tap my heel and look around the gardens. I never pay attention to the pretty gardens. How lovely they were now. All those trees and that icy water dropping down and making water circles.

“Peter?” they all stare at me just as my six o’clock phone alarm goes off with the ‘Twinkle’ sound and startles everyone.

“Do you know what we’re saying, Peter?” Curvy says.

“We don’t want to do this anymore. My mom’s real worried about me after last week… She just wants me to come home.” Toothless continues, and I have a hard time understanding him over his CCD.

“You’re not mad, are you? Are you?” Curvy goes on. Meanwhile, Nibwit just stares blankly and I stare back at him. Finally, I get up, take out a cigarette, light it, and take a drag.

“I wonder whose idea this was, Nibs.” He’s a scared little bastard; I can see it in his brave eyes as he dramatically hooks his thumb on his belt and raises his chin up high.

“We’re not your little lost boys anymore, Peter. This ends.”

“That’s not your decision, lads.” I look around at them all; most are chewing their lips or rubbing the straps of their backpacks. I take a long look at each and every one and end with Nibwit. There’s silence and tension.

To my surprise, he’s the one to break it with an uncertain step towards me, fishing out two small sealed packets of dust from inside his jacket together with a few fifty-pound notes. The pink notes flash before my eyes as he counts them and then hands them to me. “This is all that’s left. From me.”

The rest of the boys follow his example and soon I’m handed my money and the pearl powder from the hands of five different schoolboys. Their blue jackets and good intentions make me sick and I can almost smell their fake sorrow in the air. But I give them a snow white smile and salute. “Gentlemen.”

Up and on I go.

And as I walk by the new John Lewis Christmas billboard, which hurts my eyes with its million little flickering lights, I fix up my headphones and put my iPod on shuffle. The first snowflakes of the day land on my face and I turn my head to the ground, shaking. Passing drunks and unmarked taxis, people with dogs and school kids, I keep my head to the pavement and pray for a better day.

I think about the ungrateful infants and about their pathetic announcement; I think about Nibs and his beggarly face that I set my eyes on all that time ago. I gave them adventure and they gave it back like an old book. As I finger the modest packets in my pocket, I feel the fever going straight up to my brain. Suddenly I take a sharp turn into a side street. In only moments I feel my back slide down the side of a dustbin and I’m wiping my phone screen clean. Next thing I know I’m sending myself on a trail of stardust back to Neverland.

 


End file.
